Ah my Anthea! Must my heart still break? (Love makes me write, what shame forbids to speak.) Give me a kisse, and to that kisse a score; Then to that twenty, adde an hundred more: A thousand to that hundred: so kisse on, To make that thousand up a million. Treble that million, and when that is done, Let's kisse afresh, as when we first begun. But yet, though Love likes well such Scenes as these, There is an Act that will more fully please: Kissing and glancing, soothing, all make way But to the acting of this private Play: Name it I would; but being blushing red, The rest Ile speak, when we meet both in bed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NIGHT MOTHS by EDWIN MARKHAM VILLANELLE OF CHANGE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THERE WILL BE STARS by SARA TEASDALE MY DEARLING by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN THANATOPSIS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT EVENING SONG OF THE TYROLESE PEASANTS by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS |